


Is It Worth The Burn?

by BlackBlood1872



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Angst, Burnish Galo Thymos, Canon Compliant, Galo Thymos Has ADHD, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, most characters are background, they spoke so i tagged them but this is galo-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBlood1872/pseuds/BlackBlood1872
Summary: "I think I'm Burnish," Galo blurts. He keeps staring at his hands, barely seeing his friends in his periphery. He flexes his fingers. Closes his fists. And slowly… opens them.A flame burns merrily in the air above his palms."Oh," he breathes.
Relationships: Burning Rescue Members & Galo Thymos, Lio Fotia & Galo Thymos
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	Is It Worth The Burn?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on the quote "if it doesn't set your soul on fire, it's not worth the burn" by C. Churchill because it is Very Galo.  
> As tagged, this mostly canon compliant, which means I didn't write out the scenes that happened the same way they did in the movie. So it _might_ be a bit fragmented in places? But I think I tied everything together pretty well.

Galo sits in his cell, food untouched on the floor in front of him. He's lost track of time. The food is cold, and he can't hear the world beyond these walls. The only thing keeping any sort of time is the beat of his heart.

How long has he been here? They bring him food twice a day, he thinks, and this marks the thirteenth. Heris called it his last meal. What does that mean for him? Are they going to kill him? Or is it the last night for everyone on the planet, and he's to be left behind, a victim of the Earth's destruction?

His heart beats as steady as it has all week (has it been a week?), even at that thought. He feels… resigned. Pathetic and weak. He couldn't do anything to stop Kray when he was in the same room as him. There's no hope he can do anything now. They've lost.

From deep within him, his heart gives a beat like a gong being struck, a pulse that feels like a punch. He gasps, swaying forward. His hand flies to his chest, presses down, but all that's left is the quickened beat of his heart, and a tingle running through his nerves.

Seconds later, the building begins to shake. Galo stands, adrenaline coursing through his body, and if his legs shake under the effort of carrying his weight for the first time in days, well, he can blame that on the building's instability.

Another pulse from inside his chest, quieter but no less prominent, and Galo moves before he can think. He leaps back, clinging to the wall as the other crumbles to pieces, the sounds of the outside world rushing in, sirens and screams and the tortured wails of fire, everywhere. Something solid moves through the flames and Galo watches it. Listens as a familiar voice screams his anguish.

It's Lio. He's crying.

Galo jumps without hesitation.

* * *

Galo runs next to Ignis's car—and isn't that weird? He was in that cell for a week, barely enough room to pace let alone exercise, so his muscles should practically be water by now. Running should exhaust him and, besides, he's never been able to keep pace with a speeding vehicle before. Galo didn't even know it was _possible_ , even with the speed limits of navigating city streets without crashing into everything.

Then Ignis points out the fire trailing behind him and Galo freaks out about _that_ instead.

But… the fire doesn't burn him. Not his skin, not even his clothes. The flames wash over him, cover him entirely, but all he feels is warmth. It doesn't hurt.

Galo crashes into the back of the fire truck, Lucia and Varys already leaping for the ice guns and fire retardant, but Galo doesn't watch them. He stares at his hands instead, the other parts of his body that he can see, and the flames coiling around him. He feels… fine. He's on fire, but he's fine.

"What?" he asks no one, neither expecting nor getting a response. He focuses on his breathing, making it slow and calm. The fire flares in sync with his breath, and then dies down. It licks at his hands, tiny trails like miniature versions of the dragon raging through the city, and then disappears entirely.

In the back of his head, he thinks he can hear giggling, light and happy. Distant, but so warm. Like comfort distilled.

"Galo?" Lucia asks, voice high with stress. She and Varys are holding different types of extinguishers, unused and forgotten. "What—"

"I think I'm Burnish," Galo blurts. He keeps staring at his hands, barely seeing his friends in his periphery. He flexes his fingers. Closes his fists. And slowly… opens them.

A flame burns merrily in the air above his palms.

"Oh," he breathes.

"Holy shit!" Lucia screeches. But she's not scared. Galo isn't entirely sure what emotion she's feeling, but he's definitely wary of the shark grin growing on her face. "You're Burnish!"

"That's not important!" he cries, energy coursing through his veins, pounding in his ears. The truck serves through the streets, tossing all of them around, and that doesn't help calm him down at all. "The fire's the first priority. Am I wrong?"

"Did you escape?" Varys asks, dropping the can of retardant with a crash.

Galo grins. "Yeah." It feels so good to be out of that tiny room. He's purposely not thinking about the repercussions of his escape. He's pretty sure his imprisonment was hella illegal, so it shouldn't matter.

Lucia directs him to his refurbished mech, and he pushes all of those thoughts out of his head. He needs to get to the heart of this fire.

"Aina," he calls, and her face appears in the corner of his screen. She looks worried and stressed, and Galo does his best to ignore that too. It's a very stressful time right now. There's nothing he can do about that.

"Galo?"

"That big fire. It's Lio. I'm going to get him out, but I need your help. He can't be in the city like this."

Her expression firms with determination. "I've got your back, Galo."

He lets out a relieved breath. It's the last easy one he gets before Lucia slams the launch button and he's shot into the air.

* * *

Lio's rage is a fire unlike any he's fought before. It scorches the very air, warping it with the heat, reducing any humidity to steam. Galo remembers other fires like this—none so fierce, but with airless rooms where every breath runs the risk of cooking your lungs from the inside out, that charbroils your skin with proximity alone—and braces himself for the consequences of leaping straight for the source.

But these flames don't hurt, and while the air is thin and difficult to breathe, the heat of it feels no worse than the warmth of tea for a sore throat. And when Lio screams, the fire he sends at Galo glows wholly blue, and it isn't hot at all.

* * *

Galo tries to pay attention to Dr Prometh's explanation of… everything, really, he _does_ , but it would bore him on a normal day, flying right over his head. Today is far from normal and he finds himself constantly distracted. By the new heat under his skin, by the faint whispers in the back of his mind, distant and quiet, speaking in a tongue he hasn't yet had the chance to learn. Some sentiments break through—the loudest of which is _Burn_. Intense, wordless longing. A gnawing hunger for the heat of flame.

Galo understands what Lio told him, before. The Burnish _need_ to burn. It's like electricity under his skin, a crawling itch he needs to scratch. He feels like he'll go insane if he ignores it.

He stares at his hands as his fingers curl and relax. Every time his hand opens, a tiny flame swirls to life above his palm. Magenta and yellow, a shard of blue at the center. Dancing merrily before he curls his fingers around it, and it vanishes back under his skin.

"Galo?" Aina calls suddenly, and Galo's head snaps up, eyes wide and guilty before he tries to hide it, clasping his hands together behind his back. Aina watches with a frown. "Did you hear anything he just said?" she asks. Her eyes are narrow, already prepared for him to confess his lack of attention. As usual.

Galo frees one hand to gesturing abstractly. "Mostly? I'm just… distracted right now."

"Kray is about to doom the Earth," Lio points out, lips a thin line under an unimpressed glare. "What could _possibly_ be _distracting_ you from that?"

Galo rubs the back of his head. He tugs at his hair. "Uh. This?" He holds his other hand out, palm up, and produces a ball of flame.

Lio's eyes widen and he actually takes a step back. "What—you're. You're _Burnish_?"

"Believe me, it's a shock to me too. I think I only awoke today? There was a lot happening but I was in that cell for a week and when I got out, I was able to keep pace running next to the firetruck and that's. Uh. Not something I'd even _usually_ be able to do. Also I was on fire at the time? So that was. A big hint."

Lio continues to stare at him, unblinking. Galo fidgets and crosses his arms tightly across his chest, fingernails digging into his skin. He doesn't want to feel defensive, like he needs to justify his new status to this man who technically leads the Burnish, and that's a thought. Does that make Lio his boss too? Of course the other members of Mad Burnish call him that, but Galo vaguely remembers hearing a few other Burnish, those who have nothing to do with the gang, do the same. Should he do that as well? Does he want to?

"Did the Promare burn out what little brains you had left?" Lio barks at him. Galo flinches, thoughts scattering, and blinks at the blond blankly as he scrambles to re-calibrate, to parse the words spoken to him.

"What? Oh. _Uh_ …" Language hard. And he can't speak flame, so the cheery suggestions of _gold-flicker-candlelight_ are entirely unhelpful.

Lio turns away from him, but not before Galo catches sight of an impressive eye roll and his lips moving in a silent oath. Galo scowls, gearing up to argue with him—about _what_ , Galo's not entirely sure, but he'll figure it out as he goes.

He doesn't get the chance. Before he can take another step, before he can even try to brace himself—the world shatters apart. Distantly, he knows that Kray has started the Prometech engine, is sure of it in a soul deep way that has no earthly explanation.

But he can't focus on that, because at the same moment, the whispers in his head begin to _scream_.

Galo doubles over with a gasp. Fires spasm out of his skin, arcs of flame that leap and twist in a frenzy, deep magenta and red _red **red**_. The screaming is so loud he's sure even Aina can hear it, and he can't focus on anything outside of his own head. There are hands on his shoulders and he wants to push them away—he's on _fire_ , he doesn't want anyone to get hurt—but the hands just grip him tighter.

A voice, deep and smooth and calming, breaks through somehow. "Galo. I know it hurts but I need you to _breathe_. You have to calm down. Can you hear me? I need you to follow my breathing."

Galo's hand is moved and pressed against something solid, warm and alive. It moves in slow, steady motions. His hand moves with it, closer, then away, and Galo realizes it's someone's chest. Breathing. Why isn't he breathing?

Galo sucks in a breath, another, until the haze clears from his head. The Promare are still screaming, but it's far away, and he can _think_. He opens eyes he forgot he closed.

Lio crouches in front of him, eyes scanning his, worry plain on his features. He's holding Galo's hand against his chest. Even though Galo feels like he's burning up, Lio is warmer. It's more comforting than it has any right to be.

"How can you stand it?" Galo croaks.

Lio looks grim. "Practice." He looks away and lets out a harsh breath. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They get in the robot. There's only one spot for a Burnish and Lio takes it, but Galo finds his own flame raising to meet his, to help however it can. To add to the inferno raging through the limbs of this mech, to give it all the strength it can use and more.

He may not know exactly what they're going to face, but he does know that they'll need to give it their all.

Galo won't stand for anything less than that.

* * *

Kray… is Burnish.

He's the one who burned down Galo's home, who killed his family and changed his life irrevocably. He's been trying to get Galo killed for as long as they've known each other.

The pain of that revelation hurts so much worse than the flames that swallow him. Even protected by his own burgeoning powers and Lio's panicked attempt to shield him, Galo can feel the primal hate Kray feels for him searing down to his very bones.

Falling off of the Parnassus is almost a relief, after that.

* * *

His determination burns brighter than the awful ambitions of this man who was never worth his admiration. It is immensely satisfying to punch Kray in the face, to mold flame over his hand, solidify it into burning metal, and send this man sprawling to the floor. To look down at him, for the first time in his life, and know that this is what he deserves.

And then—

Galo turns to Lio.

The world falls away, narrows down until the only thing he's aware off is the silence of this chamber… and the slow, steady drift of ash in the air.

Galo drops to his knees at Lio's side, and the proximity just makes this vision worse. Galo can see the faint lines crisscrossing Lio's skin, the sections that break away with every second, that flake off and float away, fade into the stale air. Galo can't breathe.

"No," he gasps, no sound escaping his seizing lungs. He can't _breathe_.

Lio isn't breathing either. Galo needs to make him breathe.

Galo doesn't think when he places his hands on Lio's chest, presses down hard enough to crack ribs. Once, twice. Again. He's been trained for this, the knowledge pounded into his brain until it's instinctive. But more seconds pass, more ash falls, and Lio still isn't breathing. His skin, once hot enough to rival a fever, is cold to the touch. His ears are ringing and Galo can't hear his own voice as he pleads, as he begs Lio to hold on, to fight, to come back to him—

_"Please don't disappear—"_

Flame sparks to life under his fingers. Silver moonlight, a pale and distant reflection of a star's heat, whispers at the back of his mind. _Heal him_ , it says.

Galo thinks of a cave, a woman with a dying fire inside of her. Of careful breaths fanning the flame.

Galo presses trembling fingers against Lio's chin, tilting his head back. He holds fire between his teeth, and while he breathes for them both, he prays with all that he is that this will work. There is no other outcome he will accept.

An eternity passes. Lio's lips are dry and brittle against his, cool and still. And then—

From beyond the fall of his own hair, he sees movement. Ash, crawling to a stop. Coalescing into solid shapes: the drape of blond hair against the rubble, the smoothness of unblemished skin.

Galo pulls away. And Lio opens his eyes, chest raising and falling in an easy rhythm.

"You made it," Galo whispers, and the relief that crashes over him would have driven him to his knees if he weren't already there.

* * *

After that, saving the world together is the easiest thing he's ever done.

* * *

When it's all over, Galo stands on the edge of the Parnassus, watching the sunrise bathe the city in gold. The dust is still settling, and so much is destroyed, rubble lining the streets, windows blown out. It will take months to rebuild—but Galo is prepared to do everything that he can. He saved the world. He's going to put in the effort to help it _thrive_.

Lio steps up next to him, and Galo eyes him. He looks… calm. A lot calmer than he did when he was a dragon, when they were fighting for their lives. The sunlight lights up his features, highlights the flush of life on his skin.

Barely an hour ago, he was practically gray. Galo likes this look a whole lot better.

But there's something in his eyes as he looks over the ruins, something that makes Galo think of embers, banked campfires. He looks lost.

And Galo… knows why. It's quiet, with only the breeze and the distant creak of shifting buildings. Birdsong. And a hollow silence in the back of his mind, where there was once warm companionship. It's an ache, crawling under his skin like a too-cool day; going out without a coat because you thought it would be warm, and then clouds cover the sun and sap away the heat.

Galo only knew that extra warmth for a few hours. He doesn't know how long it's been for Lio. And that thought hurts.

Well. If there's anything Galo's good at, it's being a distraction.

"Aw man," he complains loudly, physically slumping. He pouts down at his hands, wriggling his fingers as if attempting to call forth the flames he _knows_ are gone. He knows, and he knows that this is just an exaggerated show in hopes that it gets Lio to smile, but—there's a part of him that longs for the sight of otherworldly flames.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lio give him a once over. "What?"

"I just got these powers and lost them barely an hour later!" Galo groans. He slaps his hands over his eyes and drags them down his face. "I never even got the chance to learn that weird language."

And that is something he regrets. It was strange and other, so dissimilar to the pattern of his own thoughts, but it was—intriguing. Fascinating. The way the Promare were able to express desires and ideas, all through temperature and types of fire, of heat—he aches, now, at the lost chance. Perhaps he never would have found a way to apply that language outside of his own use, but he wishes he could have _known_. Known what they were saying to him, why they were always laughing, so bright and carefree, even trapped as they were in a foreign universe.

He misses them, he realizes. Like sitting next to someone for hours, and the chill that comes when they move away. When rubbing your arms does nothing to soothe the phantom memory of touch.

He wonders how many of the former Burnish will develop skin hunger, will crave the bone deep warmth of a being that was always there with them. Galo wonders if he's already joined that group.

Beside him, Lio shivers in the early morning air, and it's no decision at all to reach over and wrap an arm around his shoulder. Galo pulls him close, and the stinging under his skin, a sensation he hadn't even noticed, dies away. Lio tenses at the sudden contact. Before Galo can even think about letting go, he relaxes against his side. His own arm comes up to wrap about Galo's waist.

They stay like that until the sun crests the horizon, dawning bright and clear on first day of the rest of their lives.


End file.
